Happy Birthday, Son
by gioalle1
Summary: Henry's birthday has always been the most important day the year, for Regina Mills. This is a snapshot of two different days, involving different feelings and ways she has lived these particular events.
1. Without You

This is the edited version of an old flash-fic I posted on Tumblr. The work is divided in two chapters, each one set during two different birthdays.

* * *

Five months and 25 days. It looked like an eternity, even in front of those frozen 28 years. Five months and 25 days in which the only thing she could say goodnight to was a white sleeping pill.

Henry didn't live with her, anymore.

Those were the consequences of the fact that the only thing that someone can do to be happy is making someone else happy. Making her son happy.

Even if she had always been so bad at it.

Even if they didn't believe in her good intentions.

Even if he scarcely believed in her.

What really hurt that night - even if actually everything always hurt - was that she perfectly knew that that single white pill wouldn't have been enough. Sometimes it helped, as a placebo or whatever. But that night reminded her of one of her numerous past lives, when there was that night when she used to stay up and cooking until late, decorating a cupcake for every year of Henry's life.

That night it would have been 13. Henry's thirteenth birthday, so thirteen cupcakes, one different from the another.

So different from the place she was forced to live, alone, when every day was exactly the same, still different from the days during the curse, so different from the days when he was there. When Emma Swan was there.

Sure, she always had her memories. She remembered Henry hugging her tightly, those tiny arms around her neck. She remembered how she felt uncomfortable at first, but also how fundamental were those hugs every night before going to bed, or every morning before she was about to begin her day.

Maybe they still kept on saying she was evil. And probably she believed them.

She remembered Henry spending hours playing with a lock of her hair, and that was the reason why, for a while, she decided to let them grow longer.

Maybe, she was still evil, and she thought it was true.

She remembered his hands. Hands that weren't afraid to touch her, to pinch her, to caress her. Or when, palm against palm, he used to say "Mum, one day my hand will be as big as yours".

Maybe, she was still evil.

But that night she was just sad. And she thought it would've been forever.


	2. With You

The first time they established a physical contact it wasn't really something you could define as touching; it was more like punching. Each other's face. First Emma's and then Regina's.

More or less, but on a larger scale, that was what happened also the second time, when they decided to include in the violent dynamics also a couple of shelves of an hospital room. And pills, bandages and syringes flying in the air.

Something changed just a couple of days later,when they touched and they literally made magic. Magic, like purple vortex, sparks and some inexplicable energy that allow you do do whatever you want, breaking human physical limits and boundaries. It was a shock, but also it was the perfect sign that something that was worth discovering was hidden in their wounded hearts.

What they didn't expect was that their touching became a part of their everyday life.

Like that day, Henry's birthday to be precise, when Emma had in front of her the most beautiful version of Regina Mills she had ever seen; a less severe outfit, longer hair and circle earrings. Her girlfriend's eyes were focused on the decoration of the cake, not knowing that a bit of flour was on her dress and on her cheek.

They didn't expect it would feel so good and natural.

It just took a second to come closer to Regina, with slow and tiny steps, still unsure about invading what they both considered the last corner of her kingdom, the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked Regina, noticing the fervent but accurate activity the brunette was so focused on; hands moving precisely to create an intricate pattern on a simple cake. Hands Emma loved so much to keep intertwined with hers.

"Doing my best". Emma slowly caressed her cheek, taking away that tender shade of flour Regina didn't know she had on her face. "And you?"

"Magic".


End file.
